Emily knocked on Frieda’s door, simultaneously turning the doorknob. Locked—hmm—wonder where she could be?
“Has anyone seen Frieda?” Emily turned to the group of co-workers sitting at their booths.
“Not today, she’s late.” A girl two booths down spoke up.
“Late, her car is in the lot.”
“Well, I don’t know then, maybe she’s upstairs talking to the mucky-mucks. Who knows?” The girl turned back to her monitor. “For that matter, who cares?” She mumbled as if no one could hear her.
Emily didn’t want to interrupt a meeting. How long could it take? She decided to wait in the lunchroom. As she walked into the employee lounge, she spotted Tom Jefferies. Tom worked in Human Resources, and Emily suspected he’d had a crush on her for a long time. His eyes lit up as she entered.
“Hi, Tom.” Emily reached into the refrigerator to get a bottle of water.
“Hi Em, what are you doing here? Didn’t Frieda give you some time off?”
“Yes, that’s right, but I need to speak to her. Do you know where she is? One of the girls thinks she might be in a meeting.”
“Nope! No meetings going on. At least none that would involve her. Why do you want to see her?’
“It’s personal.” The less you know, the better. “I wonder where she could be. Her car is outside, but she’s not in her office, and the door is locked.”
“That is a mystery, Em, well, I better get back to work. If you solve it, let me know.” Tom exited the room leaving Emily to ponder Frieda’s whereabouts on her own. Sipping on her water, it occurred to her to send her a text message. She took her phone from her purse and selected Frieda’s number.
‘I’m in the office. Where are you? I need to speak to you.’
After ten minutes with no response, Emily decided to page her. It was a last resort, because if indeed, she was in a meeting, then it would be a great inconvenience, and possibly embarrassing for Frieda. Her own workstation was unoccupied. Picking up the handset on the phone, she pressed the all call button.
“Frieda Gerst, please call extension 32. Frieda Gerst, 32, please.” Emily cringed at the sound of her own voice blaring through the speaker system. If Frieda was in the building, she would know shortly. Minutes dragged like hours and still no response from Frieda. No text message, no reply to the page and nobody’s seen her. Where the hell is she? Resigning herself to try again later, she grabbed her purse and left the office. As she passed by Frieda’s car, she could hear the familiar whistle of a cell phone. It stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Now, why would Frieda leave her phone in her car?”
“Pardon me?” It was Tom Jefferies.
“What? Oh, Tom. Well, I sent Frieda a text, but it seems she’s left her phone in the car. She isn’t in the building.”
“Have you tried looking in the car? I know it sounds crazy, but maybe she’s sick, or asleep, or something.”
“No, I haven’t.” Emily flushed at not having thought to look inside. “The windows are so dark it’s hard to see in there. Even the front window is too dark.”
“Try the door.” Tom leaned over and pulled on the door handle.
Horns blasted, a siren wailed, and the lights on the car flashed as the Mercedes security system went into alarm. Somewhere deep inside, the car’s computer sent a message to a central station that the alarm had sounded. Frieda’s phone began ringing, and simultaneously the local police department received a call. The vehicle’s GPS transmitted the coordinates of the car’s location to the dispatcher.
Unsure about what to do, Emily and Tom froze in place, waiting for the noise to subside. Tom made the first move. “I’ll be inside when all this quiets down.”
Emily nodded and edged away from the Mercedes toward her own car. The noise subsided as abruptly as it began. Minutes later, Emily heard sirens off in the distance. Oh God! Someone called the cops. Shit! Now, what do I do?
* * *
Colm’s phone vibrated, interrupting his musings concerning Clifford and Taylor. He hesitated as he glanced at the caller ID. It was Dan Clifford.
“Feckin’ grand! I don’t want to speak to him just now.” He spoke to the air as he swiped the dismiss button sending the call to voicemail. Twenty seconds later, the phone rang again. It was Clifford.
“Aye, hello.” Colm made no attempt to hide the agitation in his voice.
“Colm, its Dan Clifford here.”
“Yes, Sergeant, what can I do for you?” As if I didn’t know why you’re calling, you wanker.
“You were in the office earlier. I need you to come back in now. We have to talk.”
“Aye, but it’s my day off, Sarge. I’m not due back ‘til Wednesday.”
“That didn’t stop you from coming in this morning. I want to see you now!” The phone went dead.
Twenty minutes later, Colm pulled into the detachment parking lot. Dan Clifford was waiting for him at the door.
“My office. Now!” Colm sensed the hammer was about to fall, and as much as he wanted to defend himself before Clifford could speak, he decided to control his tongue and wait to hear what his Staff Sergeant had to say. Making his way through the detachment corridors, Colm entered Clifford’s office ahead of him.
“Have a seat.” Clifford sounded almost paternal. “What was it about leave that purse alone that you didn’t understand?”
That’s better. Colm looked up at his Sergeant as he sat opposite the big metal desk. Now, this is going where I figured it would. Prepare yourself, son, for a real arse chewin’. Colm remained silent as he stared at the front page of the newspaper lying on Clifford’s desk.
“I thought I told you to forget that damned purse. Now look at this—this—” he picked up the paper and shook it at him, “This bullshit in the news. They want an interview. For Christ’s sake, man, I told you to leave it alone.”
Colm squirmed in his seat as his boss ranted on.
“And as if this—” he waved the paper again—“is not enough. Now I have Alan Prewitt’s lawyer phoning me up, asking why the OPP is harassing his client. You’ve got some explaining to do. Though I have no idea how you intend to justify any of this.” Clifford finally sat behind his desk, swivelling his chair from side to side, as if trying to find the right angle from which to glare at the young detective. Colm remained silent.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, what have you got to say for yourself?” Clifford looked as if his face might explode.
“I don’t have anything to say.”
“Nothing to say! Nothing! How can you sit there and tell me you have nothing to say?” His face flushed crimson as his voice broke, climbing in pitch.
“Sergeant, I’m on my own time. I’m helping that young lady to track down the owner of that purse. I’m not using detachment time. I don’t see how that is a problem for you or the detachment.”
Clifford wasn’t buying it. He picked up the paper a third time and threw it at Colm. The pages flew apart, scattering all over the floor. He was losing it.
Whatever he’s afraid of must be enormous. Colm took a moment to gather his thoughts.
“Sarge, you told me not to bother with this purse. And if it weren’t for the fact that Emily James is a dish, I wouldn’t have. But I’m not stupid, Sergeant. I was hired as a DS because of my experience back home. I’m good at what I do, and you know it. So when you start interfering in cases that I know, and that you know that I know, are frivolous, then I have to ask why? So, I decided to look into it on me own time.”
Clifford’s eyes narrowed to mere slits, his chin quivered, and his lips tightened into a twisted curl.
“Well, my young Detective Sergeant, you might be good at what you do, but I’m in charge. You’ve opened up some ancient wounds here, and now it’s up to me to close them. Pending a full disciplinary hearing, you are suspended until further notice.”
“Suspended! Suspended? Are you jokin’? Suspended for what?”
Colm couldn’t believe Clifford could be so intransigent.
“The charge is Discreditable Conduct. You have the right to a lawyer, and your union rep can arrange one for you. Turn in your badge and your weapon to the duty officer on your way out.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t just suspend me like that without cause.” It was a losing argument, but he had to try.
“Oh, I think you’ll find I’m well within my authority here. You see young Mr. O’Byrne, you accessed confidential CPIC files without authorization, and if my guess is right, you shared those files with Miss James. And that, my young detective, is a huge no-no. You’re busted, buddy boy. I only wish I could cut off your pay to teach you a lesson, but I can’t do that until you’ve had a hearing. Hand in your gear.” Clifford had settled down and was no longer red in the face. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself. “You’re dismissed.”
Colm left the office. Arguing with Clifford was obviously useless. Stan Worthington met him in the corridor.
“Er, ah Colm, I have to ask you for your gun and your badge, man. I’m sorry. I hate doing this.”
“No, it’s OK, Stan. Is there any paperwork I need to sign? I guess I should get a receipt for the gun, at least.”
“Yeah sure, come to the front, and I’ll get you one.”
Neither man spoke as they exchanged paper for hardware. Both were dealing with the emotion of the suspension in silence, yet the communication between them spoke volumes. Colm knew that there was far more under the surface, and he knew now, that there might be others in the detachment that had had their own suspicions, once upon a time. The silence was interrupted by a 911 dispatch to the All-Comm parking lot. A car alarm had activated, and a cruiser was dispatched.
“Sounds like an exciting day is shaping up,” Colm said, as he snatched up his receipt and walked out the front doors.
Chapter 16
The sirens grew louder as they approached and in the distance Emily saw the flashing lights of a police car as it raced toward her location. How am I going to explain this to the police? She vacillated over the idea of leaving. After all, it was Tom who had set the alarm off, and he was hiding inside. The big chicken! Decision made, Emily was about to get in her car when the police pulled into the lot. The cruiser crept past the parked vehicles, finally stopping behind Frieda’s Mercedes, blocking it in. A female officer got out. Emily recognized her as the constable Colm had pulled rank on when she first met him.
She approached the constable. “I can explain everything, Constable. I was looking for the owner of that car, Frieda Gerst. She’s not inside the building, and I thought she might be sleeping in the car, or sick or something, so my friend tried the door. That set off the alarm. I’m sorry about the false alarm, but if Frieda was in there, she surely would have woken up with all that noise.”
Constable Jennifer Stroud recognized Emily right away. Colm’s girlfriend well, well. “You say you set the alarm off?”
“Yes, well, you see, I was looking for my boss. This is her car. She isn’t in her office, and she’s not in the building. It’s strange because nobody has seen her, but her car is here.”
“So you tried to open the door. Why?”
“It sounds silly, I know, but her phone is in there. I heard it ringing. I thought she might be sick or sleeping. Tom Jefferies actually tried to open the door, but it’s locked. That’s what set off the alarm. I never touched it.”
“And where is Tom Jefferies?
“Oh, he ran inside when all the commotion started. He’ll probably be in his office now.”
“Uh-huh. OK, well, you stay where you are for the moment. I will need to speak to you again.” Jen slipped back into the cruiser to call dispatch. A few seconds later, Emily heard the unmistakable “thunk” of the Mercedes’ door locks.
Jen stepped out of the cruiser and walked to the driver’s door. Emily moved a little closer, anxious to see inside. Jen reached forward and flipped the handle. The door popped ajar, and a rush of hot air escaped from the car’s cabin. Emily smelled it from ten feet away. The unmistakable odour of excrement and urine assaulted the nostrils of the two women. The constable slammed the door shut. She grabbed her radio mic and called dispatch.
“Dispatch, 6Juliet202, I need an ambulance and the Duty Sergeant at this location. Possible 302.” Jen looked up at Emily. “You’re sure you never touched this car?”
Emily’s heart pounded. She knew from the stench that something awful had happened.
“No! Not at all. I was going to, but Tom beat me to it. No, I never touched it. Oh, God! Is Frieda dead?”
“It’s not looking good. I don’t know who it is in there. Just stay put.” Jen opened the door again, wider this time, and Emily caught a glimpse of a woman sitting in the front seat. There was no movement, and the stink made her stomach flip. Jen checked the woman’s carotid artery for a pulse. Turning to Emily, she shook her head. The constable stepped back from the car, and now, Emily could see more clearly. Frieda’s lifeless body sat slumped over to the passenger side of the vehicle. Her right hand clutched her purse as though ready to exit the car. Her eyes were open, and her mouth gaped wide as though trying to scream with her last breath.
“Don’t touch anything and don’t go anywhere. Where is this Tom Jefferies at?”
“Oh, God, no! I can’t believe it. Frieda, dead. How?”
“Miss James, I need to see Tom Jefferies.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah—yes, I’ll call him down.” She grabbed her phone from her purse and called the office.
* * *
Colm stewed over the suspension as he pulled out of the detachment parking lot. Clifford’s decision only deepened his resolve. Dan Clifford was in this mess up to his neck. Colm had never seen any supervisor act in such a stubborn and self-serving manor. A suspension was not called for, especially not for an officer of his experience and record. Nevertheless, the suspension rattled him, and for a brief moment he questioned whether or not he’d made the right choice in leaving Ireland. He had to force himself to remember why he came to Canada. He was stagnating in Ireland. Promotion was a long way off, and the opportunities with the OPP outweighed his chances of advancement back home. He shook his head trying to clear the thoughts of regret from his mind. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. Clifford had taken his badge, but not his ability. He still knew what he knew, and he still had the files and the purse. Emily was following up on Frieda, and badge or no badge, he was going to see Mark Taylor. To hell with Clifford. He’s dirty, I know it, now I have to find a way to prove it.
* * *
Anyone walking along the Clarksville River boardwalk could be forgiven for thinking that the vegetation growing on the hillside came naturally. The opposite was, in fact, the case. The owners and occupants of the homes bordering that section of Clarksville’s most famous attraction had every right to clear it out. Instead, they had agreed to allow the scrubby entanglement of juniper bushes and prickly ash to grow, eventually sacrificing their view of the river in exchange for the privacy the trees and bushes afforded them.
The Taylor home was no exception. Located on the south side of the river west of the waterfalls, Mark and Mary Taylor valued their privacy. This section of the river was a designated conservation area, and the fish and wildlife were all protected here. It was a spawning bed for salmon and walleye and during these times the locals crowded the boardwalk to get a glimpse of the fish fighting their way upstream. The barrier of greenery not only offered privacy, but it shielded them from the noise of the river and the voices of the lookie-loos who crowded the walkway.
Colm got out of his Mini and dug around for his wallet. Retrieving it from his back pocket, he flipped it open and removed a business card. He might have my badge, but he forgot about these little babies. As he turned the corner at the back of the house, he spied Mark relaxing on his deck.
“Mr. Taylor?” Colm ascended the three steps to the deck.
“Yes, that’s me, what can I do fo
r you?”
“Mr. Taylor, my name is Colm O’Byrne. I’m a Detective Sergeant with the OPP.” He handed Mark his card hoping he wouldn’t ask to see his badge. “I’d like to speak with you about your ex-wife if that’s alright.”
“My ex—Kallita? Are you kidding me?” He looked at the card with the OPP crest on it. “Why in the world do you want to talk to me about her? Shit! She’s been gone over—twenty—no, twenty-five years. What could you possibly want from me that concerns her? Did she finally surface? Did you find her?”
Hmm, interesting choice of words. He filed them away in his mind. “May we sit for a moment? I have a couple of questions for you. I take it you haven’t read the paper today?”
“No, why? Should I? Please, have a seat. I gotta warn you, though. I got nothin’ good to say about that bitch.”
“If you read today’s paper, you’ll know why I’m here. From what I can gather, she had that effect on a lot of people. What can you tell me about the day she disappeared? I understand she had a run-in with your wife —Mary—is it?”
“That’s right. It’s a long time ago, but some things never leave you. I’ll never forget the devastation in her eyes when I picked her up at the diner. I swear it was a good thing that bitch wasn’t there—I’d better shut up before I say something I regret.”
“Roy Prewitt told me about that day. I guess it wasn’t good.”
“Prewitt! Don’t talk to me about Roy Prewitt. I felt sorry for him once. I even tried to warn him about her. He didn’t listen, and really, why should I even care. If he’d had any balls, he’d have stood up to that cu—”
“Mark Taylor! You know I don’t like that word.” Mary stepped through the patio door onto the deck. Colm stood to greet her. “Please, Detective, don’t get up. I’ve been listening to every word, and Mark is right. I remember that day for two reasons. First, the coffee incident, but there was another reason. Most people don’t know that I was fired from my job that day also. Only Mark knew. Eventually, I had to tell some friends and my family, of course. However, only three people know why I was fired. Me, Mark and my former boss. I don’t know how, but I have no doubt that Kallita was behind it. It made life hard for us. We almost lost this place. Mark was out of work, laid off from the plant, and mine was the only income we had, except for his unemployment insurance but that didn’t amount to much.”
Kill Her Twice Page 11
